Lucky because you didn’t kill me. You didn’t even injure me, and my car survived equally unscathed once Leif pulled it out of the rough on the side of the interstate at no more expense than the cost of Leif’s gas to drive the 25 miles each way to where you left me stranded. Lucky, because despite being so absorbed by your phone conversation you didn’t even stop to see if you killed me or injured me after running me off the road at 70 miles an hour, and the kind people behind me who avoided hitting me as my car spun across two lanes and a shoulder at speeds in excess of 55 miles per hour, followed you down the interstate to get your plate number and a physical description and came back to give it to me to give the police, the police officer who arrived on the scene decided there was no need to write up a police report. Lucky, because I’m not a mean, spiteful, vindictive, revenge happy person who instead of feigning indisposition didn’t cry for an ambulance and attempt to sue your oblivious, rude and dangerous ass into non existence and with great emotional composure put up with the humiliation of having to try and convince the police officer I didn’t deserve this or do it to myself then went along my merry little way with most of my dignity intact and nary a tear shed.

Yup. You are one lucky bastard today.

Well, actually you were one lucky bastard on Monday, I just didn’t have the calmness and presence of mind to write coherently about your good fortune until today. I would be careful though if I were you, for though fortune may favor the foolish, that kind of good luck can get people killed. I’m just saying….